Malus: World of War I
by TheBlackPhoenix100
Summary: In a universe where worlds are divided by a mysterious force called the Nexus, pathways have been opened. The Nexus has been broken, and as a result, alliances shall be formed, enemies shall be made, loyalties will be tested, and many a thing will see the end. The first story of five, Malus: World of War I sees a conflict between some of the greatest villains in fiction. Enjoy.


Malus: World of War I  
The Ghost of Sparta

Stories You Should Be Familiar With:  
God of War  
Hercules (Disney version)  
Kung Fu Panda  
The Hunchback of Notre Dame

It had been a year since the different dimensions had merged together through mysterious portals, known as the Nexus Gates, to create a new world of malice and war. Every great hero in the universe had either been slain or weakened beyond their capability of helping themselves or anybody else. What had caused everything to occur was a complete mystery, but what people were sure of was that the world was changing for the worst. There was blood in the water. Sharks were gathering. Soon, none would be safe from the curse of war.

SICYON, GREECE, 2:31 PM

This all became clear as the son of Zeus, Kratos, the Ghost of Sparta himself, led his raid on the city of Sicyon, which, as rumors told, had begun to worship the Titans over the Gods. Zeus had made his orders clear: the city would convert or perish. And Kratos was more than willing to deliver punishment in the name of the Gods, anything to rid himself of the terrible memories of his sins that plagued him.

The gates burst forth mightily as the Spartans rushed through. The Sicyonians waited with shields and pikes at the ready, but were quickly pushed back by the superior numbers and might of the enemy. At the head of the Spartan lines was Kratos, who quickly delivered the first blood as he sent the soldiers- or what remained of them- flying away. As soldiers continued to charge, he leaped over the Sicyonians, running up a building to send his signal to the Pegasus Riders. He lit a Sicyonian flag aflame, the riders flying in towards the tower of smoke. Arrows rained down on the Sicyonians, as they retreated down into lower levels of the city. However, the Spartans waited down there, weapons ready for slaughter.

Kratos, having given the signal, then charged towards the wall, where he annihilated the archers and threw down ropes and chains for more soldiers to climb. This way, there would be soldiers to mow through the Syclonians in the lower levels of the city and archers to strike them down should they try to retreat. However, just as he landed back on the ground, soaked in hot blood and pushing past fleeing citizens, the duel that would change his course in the war occurred.

"Spartan!", a deep voice cried. Kratos turned to see a group of dead Spartans, gathered around a blue-skinned centaur. What puzzled Kratos about this is why a son of Poseidon would be giving aid to his enemy.

"So you're the Ghost of Sparta, are you?! You don't look like much to me!"

Then, as the creature came further into view, advancing past the smoke that filled the nearby windows and poured into the streets, Kratos recognized him.

"Nessus! Stand aside!"

"Afraid not! My father demands your head on his throne, and I shall be the one to give it to him!"

Kratos' eyes widened with anger. Just as he had suspected might happen, the Gods had betrayed him. Yet, he was only barely surprised. He had lost trust in them after they broke their promise to erase his grave memories once he had killed and usurped the rebellious Ares.

"You truly believe that a centaur can stand against the God of War?!"

"By the time this is over, it is you who shall regret fighting on this day!"

Nessus then charged forward like an arrow, with speed and ferocity unmatched. However, as mighty as the centaur was, Kratos was prepared. Sheathing his curved weapons, the Blades of Exile, back into their sheathes, the Ghost of Sparta caught Nessus' fist with little effort and flung him over him. Nessus crashed into a nearby fruit shack, but quickly rose to resume his assault. But this time, he went with a different tactic. Raising his front legs, Nessus removed his horseshoes. Kratos was slightly amused at how preposterous the idea seemed, but as the centaur threw them, the shoes separated, spreading out and flying at him from different directions. Kratos ducked, flipped, and knocked the shoes aside, but was nearly blown aside by Nessus' next charge. Kratos grappled with Nessus, stopping him after sliding almost eight feet back.

Nessus pressed his advantage, trying to lower Kratos to the ground so that he could weaken him enough to throw him up in the air and then proceed to throw his next horseshoe up at him, killing him. Kratos' strength began to buckle; Nessus seemed to be winning. But just as Nessus' confidence began to spring up, the Ghost of Sparta sprang his trap for the mighty centaur.

Ducking under Nessus, Kratos performed a split kick between the centaur's forelegs, breaking them. As Nessus began to fall, screaming, Kratos then jumped up from under the former, drawing the Blades of Exile with inhuman speed and severing his rear legs.

Nessus lay on the ground, howling in pain, his pride and his body seriously injured. He looked back at his missing rear legs, realizing that he would die soon from blood loss. But he couldn't die this way. He would please his father, whatever it took. So he clumsily reached for a nearby horseshoe, but unleashed a scream when Kratos stepped on his hand, breaking it.

"Why did Poseidon send you to kill me?" Kratos asked sternly.

"It wasn't him. It's Zeus who wants you dead." Nessus retorted between painful grunts.

Kratos lowered his head, holding back the pain of his father's inevitable, but still shocking betrayal.

"I was to kill you and become the new God of War in your place! That was what I was promised! But know this! My father will avenge me! He will ensure that you burn in Tartarus for what you have done on this day!", Nessus shouted, trying to hide his own pain of betrayal, completely understanding that his own father had sent him to his death. And he continued to hide his pain with maniacal laughter that echoed through the chaotic city.

Kratos then raised his head, tired of hearing Nessus' mocking words. He stepped on Nessus' throat, replacing his laughter with desperate gasps for air. Kratos then pressed down on the centaur's throat until he felt the throat snap, blood gushing out of Nessus' throat. The Ghost of Sparta then removed his heavy foot from the centaur's corpse, standing over the creature sent to kill him by his own father.

There were trumpets sounding throughout the city, announcing the Spartans' victory. The Spartan general, Ulgius, came rushing towards his leader.

"My lord! The city has fallen! Victory is ours!"

However, Kratos simply walked past him, his mind deep in thought.

"My lord, we've won! Do you not hear the drums?"

Kratos, still walking away, issued a final command to Ulgius, "Completely secure the palace. Kill the king. Then burn every temple here."

Ulgius' eyes bulged with horror. "But my lord, it could invoke the wrath of the Gods! There could be no telling what kind of disaster that would bring!"

Kratos then stopped, but didn't even bother to turn around,

"Would you rather answer to the Gods, or me?"

Ulgius then slowly lowered his head in subordination.

"I want the ashes of the priests in this city to fly beyond the clouds!"

As Kratos continued to walk away, Ulgius reluctantly passed on his orders to the soldiers. However, nobody noticed a muscular snow leopard built like a human standing on the roof of the palace, looking down at the burning city.

PARIS, FRANCE, 3:29 PM

The smoke rose high. A pyre was lit in the center of Paris, in front of the Palace of Justice. As shaking men, weeping women, and sobbing children were brought up to their executions, a soldier stood in the front, reading out loud from a scroll.

"Here in the center of this great city, the criminals of France, England, and America alike are brought before you. Before you, you see the sorcerer, with its dark magic, about to face the mortality that its dark arts could not save it from. You see the Gypsy, whose trickery did not bode so well for it behind these mighty walls. You see the thief, whose life of crime shall be judged by the Creator Himself. By decree of Judge Claude Frollo, newly declared Lord High Protector of France, it is here that the sinners be delivered to the flames of Hell to face their punishment. May the Creator have mercy on their souls, and may the world that He created prosper without their sins to decay it."

The soldier often found himself having to raise his voice above the screams of the burning people. The citizens of Paris watched. Some who were fanatically loyal to Frollo watched with glee. Others who were appalled by Frollo's actions watched with shock and horror.

Upon the balcony of the palace stood the Judge of Paris himself, watching with a stern look as those who he had deemed enemies to the Creator were burned alive at the steak.

As the last of several charred bodies was thrown onto a cart, to be carried to coffins that would dumped into the ocean, an aging, dark-skinned, Greek woman stepped up to the steak. Her clothes were torn, her flesh bruised and cut by the guards. However, she had a haunting smile on her face, laughing as she walked to the steak.

"The desolate gather,  
the oppressed stand to fight.  
The darkness looms over  
this never-ending night,"

She sang as one of the soldiers stood with a rope to tie her to the steak.

"The Creator gives up his reins  
to the lesser of the great.  
They just argue amongst themselves,  
leaving mortals to their fate."

She took her place in front of the steak as the crowd, prisoners and citizens alike, fell silent.

"The old man walks  
through the Graveyard of blades.  
He digs holes for coffins  
as all good slowly fades."

The executioner picked up a torch, walking over to a burning corpse to light it.

"The damned will rise  
from their prisons of black.  
The world to reclaim,  
the Heavens to sack."

The executioner walked over to the pyre as the oracle paid him no mind.

"The evil of humanity  
shall be the world's fall.  
The emptiness of oblivion  
shall be the dead's call."

The pyre was lit, but the oracle still spoke and bore no mind to the fire.

"Man will burn forth  
a black smoke of doom.  
The cloud of malice  
will forever loom."

Everybody there, even Frollo, who could hear the oracle's loud words, shuddered at the prophecy.

"War will be waged.  
Evil will churn.  
All good will end.  
The world will burn."

The oracle repeated these words in a loud, yet monotonous cry, even as the flames seared into her flesh. She repeated it over and over as the soldiers backed away, the peasants ran, more prisoners were brought up to the steak, and Frollo looked up to the Heavens. Storm clouds brewed as the burning oracle repeated her prophetic words. Frollo backed away from the balcony, horror dripping into his mind as he recognized what this prophecy meant. The Creator had sent a sign; the prophecy that she spoke was the truth. He retreated into the Palace of Justice as the oracle's words echoed through the city until she drew her final breath.

"War will be waged.  
Evil will churn.  
All good will end.  
The world will burn."


End file.
